


Sense

by StarlightShimmer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:20:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26332525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightShimmer/pseuds/StarlightShimmer
Summary: During the pandemic Stiles is across the continent and away from the pack and alone in his apartment. Peter notices and suddenly Stiles isn't alone in his apartment anymore.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 19
Kudos: 174





	1. Sight

Stiles did not know the last time he had left his apartment or seen another human not through a screen. He knew he should be grateful. There were not many people his age who could afford their own one bedroom apartment and had the luxury of working from home during this pandemic. He was so lucky that his bosses were being smart about this whole thing - so many were not - but he did miss people. He even had his groceries delivered.

It was not the first time he had thought back to Peter Hale offering him the bite with a pang of regret. It was not really that he wanted to be a werewolf, per se, but the immunity to human diseases sure sounded pretty good right now.

Although, the virus had started in animals so maybe werewolves were not immune. Hm. Stiles felt his fingers twitching and the temptation to take to the internet to research. He squashed down the temptation. As Derek had told him him (well growled at him really) the internet is not a reliable source of information about werewolves.

Instead he found himself looking at the familiar page of shelter cats. He was lonely, okay? He hadn’t seen anyone in forever and had no idea when he would again. And he was seeing all the pictures of his friends and their pets online. He could totally get a cat. He would be a great cat dad. Fantastic even.

“Awww Blinky,” Stiles said aloud as he took in the adorable picture of a one eyed kitten, “that name is cruel but you are adorable. I would totally rename you. I would call you Fury.” He laughed. “Get it?”

No one was around to hear him of course, but he thought he was absolutely hilarious.

He sighed and closed him laptop.

“I really need some sleep.”

***

“You are not getting a cat.”

Stiles screamed, magic crackling from his fingertips as he was roused from his sleep by the voice.

“Peter! What are you doing in my apartment!?”

“Hush sweet boy, you don’t want to wake your neighbours do you.”

“That’s not an answer, Peter,” Stiles said, but he did adjust his voice to a lower decibel, “what are you doing here?”

“No one from the pack had heard from you in weeks,” Peter said, “we were… worried.”

“I had a Zoom call with Scott last week,” Stiles said defensively.

“Stiles,” Peter said slowly, and if Stiles had not known better he would have thought the older man sounded sad, “that was almost a month ago.”

“No,” Stiles said, but he was not really sure. Maybe it had been longer than he had thought.

“Yes,” Peter said, “and when is the last time you left this apartment?”

“We’re in a pandemic, Peter,” Stiles, “oh! Can weres get Covid?”

“No, Stiles,” Peter said, sounding tired and like he deeply regretted coming here at all, “We can’t. We’re immune to human diseases.”

“But it came from animals,” Stiles protested.

“We’re not animals, Stiles,” Peter said. He sounded, if possible, even more exasperated.

“I know, I know,” Stiles said, “But-“

“No buts,” Peter said.

“Wait! Is everyone okay? Is my dad okay? Is it Scott? Did something happen,” Stiles questioned rapidly.

“No,” Peter said firmly, “everyone in Beacon Hills is fine. We haven’t even had any supernatural problems since you did whatever it was you did to the nemeton two years ago.”

“So you’re just here to? What? Make sure I’m alive,” Stiles questioned, “you could have just texted.”

“Perhaps I was just looking for the pleasure of your company,” Peter said.

Stiles scoffed.

“Oh Stiles, you wound me,” Peter said, “you know you’re my favourite. Smart and pretty. Just how I like them.”

“I thought you and Derek were getting along these days,” Stiles said.

“We are,” Peter said, “but consider this. You are the only member of the pack who is alone. There is, as you pointed out earlier, a pandemic going on. We were worried. _I_ was worried.”

“Aw, zombiewolf, I knew you cared,” Stiles said, “wish you weren’t taking a leaf out of Derek’s book and breaking into my bedroom in the middle of the night, but I guess that’s just a Hale family trait.”

“Perhaps,” Peter said with smirk, “but unlike my nephew, I used your front door and not the window.”

“Touché,” Stiles said with a yawn, “well I need to go back to bed.” He stood up. “I guess you can have my bed and I’ll take the couch.”

“Or we could share the bed,” Peter said and Stiles could hear the smirk even if he could not see it.

“Go to bed Peter.”

***

Stiles awoke to the smell of bacon and the feeling of confusion when he opened his eyes and saw his living room instead of his bedroom. Then it all came flooding back. Peter was here. In his apartment.

“Peter,” Stiles said, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Coffee,” Peter said and Stiles found a cup of heavenly liquid shoved into his hands, “and sit.”

Stiles knew he should argue. Peter was a guest… of sorts. Stiles should probably be the one making him feel at home. But he was barely coherent before coffee so he did as he was told.

There was silence as Stiles sipped at his coffee and took in the sight of Peter Hale cooking in his tiny apartment kitchen like he had done so a thousand times before. It was not a sight he had expected, but it was not unwelcome.

“How long are you staying,” Stiles asked after a few bites of breakfast and most of the coffee was in his system.

“When’s the last time you left this apartment,” Peter questioned.

“I don’t know,” Stiles answered.

“Stiles.”

“It’s not safe out there, Peter,” Stiles said.

“Well I guess I’ll be staying until you feel safe again.”

“That could be a long time, Peter,” Stiles said.

“Well I guess you better get a bigger bed.”


	2. Hearing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles never expected this side of Peter.

Peter sung in the shower.

Stiles did not know why he was surprised to learn this, but he had never really taken Peter for a singer. But then, Peter was a show off. And a talented fucker. And with a baritone like Peter’s Stiles would be singing every word like he was in a Disney musical.

Peter had been staying in his apartment for less than 24 hours and it already felt more alive than it had since the beginning of the pandemic.

If someone had told Stiles even a day ago that Peter Hale would be living with him he would have laughed.

But yet here he was. Peter singing in his shower while Stiles did the dishes. Or, well, he had started off doing the dishes, but then gotten distracted by Peter’s voice and trying to figure out what it was he was singing.

Stiles could not quite make it out unfortunately but it sounded like pop music. Which, he would not have expected. He was not sure what he would expect Peter to sing if anything at all, but pop music was not it.

“I can hear you thinking.”

“No you can’t,” Stiles said automatically, “Even were hearing isn’t that good.”

He turned to see Peter, hair damp and wrapped only in a towel.

“I sincerely hope you brought clothes because I’m pretty sure mine wouldn’t fit,” Stiles said, tying to ignore the dryness of his mouth at shirtless Peter Hale.

“Seeing as how you’re refusing to leave your apartment I suppose I could just go around like this,” Peter said.

“Yeah, no,” Stiles said, “my apartment is a clothes zone.”

“Pity,” Peter said, his eyes travelling up the length of Stiles’ body slowly. So slowly that Stiles himself could practically feel the flush following his gaze.

“I didn’t know you could sing,” Stiles said suddenly , desperately hoping for a change of subject.

Peter seemed surprised by the shift.

“What? Oh yes,” Peter said with a smug grin, “now, now sweet boy, is that why the dishes aren’t done? Did my singing distract you?”

“I was just trying to figure out what you were singing,” Stiles said defensively, “figured someone like you would be singing like, opera in the original Italian or something, but I could have sworn I was hearing Taylor Swift or something.”

If Stiles had not known Derek, had not seen Derek embarrassed, he would have missed the subtle signs of embarrassed Hale wolf. As it was, Stiles did see the pinking of Peter’s ears that was a dead giveaway.

“Oh my god. You were. You were singing Taylor Swift in the shower,” Stiles practically cackled.

“You won’t tell anyone.” Peter breathed.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Stiles said, “this seems like important pack information.”

“Stiles,” Peter said, “if you tell I won’t sing ever again. And I think we both know you don’t want that.”

“Oh be quiet creeper wolf,” Stiles said with a roll of his eyes, “I’m not going to tell anyone. No one would believe me anyway. Your secret’s safe with me, no threats necessary.”

*

Stiles refreshed the pages so he could keep track of the latest Covid statistics. It was unhealthy to focus this much on the news. He knew it. Especially since there was never any good news to be had. No. It was almost like being back in high school when Scott had gotten bitten and it seemed like there was a new monster every week.

Except with the monsters he could do _something_. Sure, he was not the strongest or fastest person in the pack, but he could still do _something_. With this all he could do was stay inside and hope none of his friends or family got sick.

It was weirdly quiet in his apartment now that Peter was gone. The were had just gone out to, apparently, get provisions. Stiles had insisted they could have anything they needed ordered in, but Peter had been adamant. Stiles could stay in his apartment if he wanted, but Peter was immune and had no intention of spending an indefinite amount of his life in Stiles’ apartment.

Stiles trusted Peter to be honest about his ability to get sick, but it did not stop Stiles from worrying. What if Peter brought it back on his clothes and got Stiles sick? Stiles was not a were, he was not immune. As much as the idea of bite induced immunity made him feel some thoughts of relief, he still did not actually want the bite.

“Honey, I’m home,” Stiles heard Peter’s voice call, “and if you’re looking at the numbers again we’ll definitely be talking about it.”

Stiles flushed and closed the lid of his laptop before hurrying to the front door.

“I thought you said we just needed a few provisions,” Stiles said, voice high and eyes wide as he took in Peter carrying a large mattress.

“There’s a frame in the car,” Peter said, “and some other things. But I wasn’t joking when I said you needed a bigger bed.”

“Is that even going to fit in my room,” Stiles questioned, “also where did you get it from? Were they taking proper precautions? Maybe we should leave it on the balcony for a couple of days?”

“Stiles. Darling. Breathe,” Peter said, his voice soothing to Stiles’ ears, “I promise it will fit - I measured. And we’re not leaving it on the balcony for days for fear that you will catch Covid from a mattress.”

Peter’s tone brooked no room for argument.

“Okay,” Stiles said, biting his lip.

“It’s going to be okay,” Peter said reassuringly, “trust me.”


	3. Smell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One month in and it feels like it shouldn't feel this normal.

“Isn’t it weird?”

“Not really,” Stiles said, “is it weird that it’s not weird?”

Lydia did not look impressed.

“I guess it should be weird,” Stiles continued, “I mean, my apartment’s not that big and you would think he’d want to be around pack and-“

“Stiles,” Lydia said firmly, “you are pack. If I were to make an educated guess I would think you’re probably the person he most considers pack.”

“So are you fucking yet, Stilinksi?”

“Jackson,” Lydia said, a tone that brooked no arguments.

“Oh, come on,” Jackson said, coming into view of the frame, “it’s not like he was subtle. He was always scenting you and if that was too subtle for you, he was always calling you by pet names. It was creepy. Honestly, there were times even I thought about going to your dad.”

“Not helpful Jackson,” Lydia said firmly.

“But not wrong, either.”

Stiles flipped off the camera knowing Lyds would know it was not directed at her.

“Glad to know you were looking out for my virtue, Jacks,” Stiles said with a snort.

“I mean, Jackson is crass, but he does have a point,” Lydia said, “Look, I still don’t particularly like him, but I can tell he’s not evil anymore. And, well, you’re part of that Stiles. I’m not Jackson, I’m not suggesting you fall into bed with the man, but no, I’m not surprised that living together is not weird.”

“Well, not any weirder than zombie wolf ever is anyway,” Stiles amended his earlier statement, “the scent thing is getting to be a bit much though. He keeps sniffing and getting all rumbly and talking about how it smells like pack.”

“You know scent is important to weres,” Lydia said, “I practically have to force Jackson to let me change the sheets.”

“I did not need to know that Lyda.”

The gorgeous woman he called one of his best friends shrugged and tossed her hair. Stiles knew the scent of her shampoo would be wafting around now.

It should have been weird, really. Peter had been living with him for almost a month now. Stiles had valiantly tried to stick to the couch at first, but it was not really the most comfortable option. Eventually he had capitulated.

But Peter had been the consummate gentleman. They had stuck to their opposite sides of the bed (and Stiles was very glad for the big bed now) and Peter had not so much as touched him.

Not that Stiles was complaining… or maybe he was. He did not even know anymore.

All he knew was that he had gotten used to waking up to the scent of coffee and Peter singing in the shower. He had gotten used to showering with unscented products because _I want to smell you, dear boy, not the scent of chemicals_.

It should be weird.

But it felt warm and comfortable. Sure, he was still afraid to leave his apartment and worried about his dad potentially getting sick since both he and Melissa were essential workers, but the ever present feeling of dread had lessened since Peter had moved in.

*

“And how was Miss. Lydia,” Peter questioned that evening.

Stiles still did not like how often Peter was leaving the apartment, but also it was the only way he could get any privacy so…

“She’s fine,” Stiles said with a shrug, “she and Jackson haven’t killed each other yet at least.”

Peter threw back his head and laughed.

And that was another thing. Sure, it was not a surprise to Stiles that Peter had emotions, but he had always seemed somewhat muted back in Beacon Hills.

“She mentioned he hates changing the sheets too.”

“Yes, well, he would,” Peter said, “it’s where their scents would intermingle the most. That’s bound to be a delightful smell to Jackson, despite how little I wish to think about Jackson and Lydia’s relationship.”

Stiles knew his face had scrunched up as well. He also did not enjoy thinking about that. He had never wanted to think about Jackson’s sex life and now that he and Lydia were good friends it was weird to think about her in that way too.

“Is that why you’re so weird about it - because you like the scent?”

Peter was looking at him appraisingly.

“Is that a question you want a genuine answer to Stiles,” Peter questioned. And the tone of Peter’s voice combined with the use of his actual name gave Stiles pause.

Was he ready for this conversation? It was a topic they had been dancing around and studiously ignoring since Stiles had still been in high school.

He was not a high school virgin anymore though and he and Peter were _living together_. It was bound to come to a head at some point.

Stiles took a deep breath. He could not smell like Peter could of course, but there was still something in the air that made him think of Peter.

“Yeah. You know, I think I really do.”

He could see Peter’s nostrils flaring, he knew that the were could smell his nerves and arousal in equal measure.

“You only ever had to ask, darling,” Peter said, “our bed smells delicious, like home. I’ll let you change the sheets, I’m not disgusting. But I sleep better when our scents are mingled. And so do you if I’m not wrong.”

“You’re not wrong.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a few different chapters planned, but my challenge to myself is to keep all of them under 1000 words (according to the program where I do my writing). This one is exactly 1000 - cutting it close! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading!


End file.
